How One Cash-Strapped Man Got to Every World Cup

Every four years during my childhood, I watched my dad, whose name is Juan Pablo, stuff a backpack with rolled-up tech pants, tiny toothpaste, and soccer jerseys to fly off to a far-away stadium with thousands of other guys who, like him, scrounged together all their pennies to see the World Cup. What he did there, why it mattered so much, and how he managed to pull it off was a mystery to me. Aside from that, during those summers, we subsisted on sandwiches and cereal—not that I ever minded.